


Perspective

by roselew



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:45:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselew/pseuds/roselew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d left base sometime around mid-afternoon and only stopped running when he couldn’t see any signs of life in any direction, sitting, knees bent, in the warm sand. There was something comforting about it, tilting his head back and feeling the sun on his face. Like if he tried hard enough he could pretend he was back home, sitting in the yard at the height of summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a few tumblr prompts. My first fic for tf2 AND my first fully NSFW fic, so be gentle with me.

“Alright, yeah, maybe I am. So what?” **  
**

The words were harder to say than he’d thought they’d be; his mouth was dry, throat tight with anxiety, and Scout shrugs, one-shouldered, like it’s not a big deal, and squints out at the sun dipping below the orange horizon to hide his expression.

He’d come out here to think, as he habitually did after particularly frustrating days on the battlefield. He’d left base sometime around mid-afternoon and only stopped running when he couldn’t see any signs of life in any direction, sitting, knees bent, in the warm sand. There was something comforting about it, tilting his head back and feeling the sun on his face. Like if he tried hard enough he could pretend he was back home, sitting in the yard at the height of summer. He hadn’t opened his eyes when he heard the distinctive rattling of Sniper’s van pulling up a few meters away. Maybe he’d known, instinctively, what was coming.

Now, the sunlight is glaring off of the pale side of Sniper’s van, casting an orange glow that hurts Scout’s eyes a little. He glances back anyway. Sniper’s leaning against the side of the truck, and the sun is so intense that Scout can just barely see the glowing tip of Sniper’s cigarette as he takes a drag of it.

The question hadn’t been  _entirely_  unexpected, he guessed. There’d been enough hints and whispers around base for the whole team to suspect it. Apparently Sniper was the only one with balls enough among them to actually ask. Scout hadn’t quite expected it to be quite so blunt, though.  _There’s been talk around base that you’re queer._

Sniper was silent now, and that was understandable - finding out something like this was probably a bit of a shock, and honestly, Scout was afraid of what Sniper would say when he  _did_  decide to speak, so he broke the silence before Sniper could.

“Happy now? The big secret’s out.” He says, scuffing the sand with the toe of his shoe. There’s a very real sting of fear somewhere in his chest: he’d known guys back home get beat half to death for much less than out-right admitting they were gay, and he hardly thinks he’d be allowed to keep doing this job, once news spread. He scratches his nose, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, and tries to inject some venom into his voice. “Y’gonna tell the rest of ‘em now?”

Sniper curses, under his breath, and Scout hears him shift a little. He tries hard not to fidget in anticipation for the answer, clasping his hands together.

“No.” Sniper says finally, voice low, and drops his cigarette into the sand, crushing it under his heel. “No, I’m not gonna do that.”

Scout sniffs and looks back out across the desert, and in his periphery he can see Sniper push his glasses up and rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He sounds exhausted when he speaks, almost more to himself than to Scout, “bloody hell, kid.”

Scout straightens defensively, jerking his chin up to glare at the Sniper, hands dangling limply between his bent knees. He has to force himself not to stand up, get into the Sniper’s face like he and his brothers used to do to the bratty neighborhood kids to show them who was boss. This feels delicate, a silk thread he has to walk without it snapping. He can’t risk the Sniper going back on his word and spreading this. So he sits still, spits the words out, and the venom isn’t forced this time.

“What? Y’think I  _want_  it to be like this?” He snorts out a laugh. “Man, if I had it my way…” He lets the thought trail away, but is launching into a new one with little pause. “I didn’t choose this, alright. So you can take your…disappointment, or-” He pauses, searching wildly for the right word. He thinks it’s somewhere between shame and anger. “Whatever the hell  _this_  is, and shove it-” The Sniper hasn’t moved; hasn’t even looked at Scout since he started talking, but he interrupts him sharply enough.

“That’s not what I meant-”

Scout looks at the sky, exasperated and tense, and exhales sharply. He’s tired of this…whatever they’re doing, dancing around. He wishes Sniper would just out with it so they could stop this whole stupid conversation.

“What, then?” He says. “D’you have  _any_  idea what this is like? For months I’ve had to listen to them-” He flings his arm in the vague direction of the base. “Laughin’ and whisperin’ about me like I’m some fuckin’ joke. Man, if they knew.” He shakes his head, rubs his hand over his face and lets it linger over his eyes. Jokes and digs were one thing. He didn’t want to think about how they’d all react if this ever got out. He steadies his voice. “So don’t mess me around, alright? If you had any idea what it’s like bein’ the only fuckin’ guy on base-”

“Maybe you’re not the only bloody one. D’you think of that?” Sniper says, viciously, and Scout’s mouth falls shut with a click.

“Oh.” He says, and it feels an entirely underwhelming reaction to give. All the fight was draining out of him, shock and relief stealing all the words he’d planned to say. The Sniper looks very much like he wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah. ‘ _Oh_ ’.” Sniper mutters, and Scout looks back as he tips his head back against the side of the truck, eyes closed. Well, this changed things, he guessed. It definitely cleared up Sniper’s reasons for coming out here just to ask him this, anyway, beyond morbid curiosity.

He lets the silence stretch awhile. Sniper’s not exactly the kind of guy to open up often, and Scout doesn’t want to scare him off so that he can pretend this never happened. It’s another fine line he has to walk.

“I’ve never-” He says, suddenly, and stops, picking at a peeling corner of his hand-wraps. Sniper looks at him suspiciously.

“Never what?” He asks, and Scout shrugs, peeling the bandage away from the adhesive on his palm, very obviously not looking at the Sniper.

“Never met another - y’know, someone like me.” He chews briefly at his lip. “It’s weird, s’all.” Sniper says nothing, but Scout can feel his gaze on him. “Does anyone else know? About you, I mean?”

The Sniper grunts, and Scout sees him smile, just a little, just barely.

“Spy, probably, I s’pose.” Scout’s not so sure. He doesn’t think the Spy knows as much about them as he likes to think. “Not exactly the sort of news I care to share.”

“Oh.” Scout says again, and they lapse into silence. The company is sort of weird and awkward. They’ve never been particularly close, and Scout wishes they had something else to talk about, but everything seems kinda…unimportant compared to this. He’s kind of hoping Sniper will decide to leave. Just so he can forget the surreality of the situation, but the Sniper doesn’t look much like he plans to go any time soon; still leaning against his truck, fingers laced over his stomach, head tipped towards the sun slowly slipping beneath the horizon. Scout pulls the bandage entirely from his left hand, rolling it into a ball and tucking it into his pocket, and gets to work on the other.

His gaze shifts back to the Sniper, and he watches as he wets his lips with a brief flash of his tongue, scratches absently at his hip. It was kinda nice, Scout guessed, seeing the Sniper like this. He was separate from the rest of them, always controlled and restrained sometimes to the point of seeming emotionless. Sniper takes a long, deep breath, like a sigh, and it looks good, Scout thought, the lines of his chest against his shirt.  _He_  looks good.

Scout tries to swallow down the growing heat in his chest.  _Sniper looks good_. Scout’s fingers twitch. He hadn’t let himself notice stuff like this; for fear of getting caught, fear of some punishment borne of indulgence. If he let himself think about it, all of the guys had something going for them, he guessed, but Sniper was right here, long and lean and stretched out, eyes shut and oblivious, and if Scout wanted he could - he could…

 _No_. He rips away the last of the bandages hard enough for it to sting, gritting his teeth. What had happened to Scout’s pride? Sure, it’d been a while since he’d been with anybody else, let alone a man, but was he so desperate that he’d consider  _Sniper_ , of all people?  _Have some fuckin’ standards,_  he scolded himself, and very deliberately  _did not look_  at the Sniper as he started rubbing at the tacky remnants of adhesive on his knuckles.

But, then…how long  _had_  it been? Some girl’s hands down his pants in a gross alleyway back home? Even if Scout  _could_  make-do with some random chick, there weren’t exactly many of them around. Hell, if the old, tired rumours about the Doc and Heavy were true, then he wouldn’t even be the only one resorting to… _alternative_  means of relief. Some small, quiet part of him really did want this with a guy. Girls were great and all, but it was never right, always just physical reaction and lingering teenage hormones, not what he wanted, secretly. Not really.

That freaked him out a little. Honestly, openly wanting another guy was different than just being attracted to them in general. He dares another look up at the Sniper. Hell, he doubts he’d even be interested. He’d come out here to ask questions and sit in the sun, apparently, not to be propositioned. Scout takes a steadying breath. This was insane. He’d go back to base; it was starting to get dark now, anyway, and he could pretend he never had this conversation or these thoughts and he could go back to thinking the Sniper was kind of weird and a little unnerving and not  _at all_  good to look at.

He hauls himself to his feet, legs aching from sitting still for so long, and the Sniper finally moves, turning to look at him just over the edge of his glasses.  His eyes are soft, like he’d been on the edge of sleep, relaxed and languid. Scout wonders vaguely at Sniper’s apparent ability to fall asleep in any position. He straightens slightly, as if catching himself.

“You leavin’, then?” Sniper asks, and his voice is a little rough, furthering the illusion that Scout had woken him from something. The low rumble of it sends a cool shiver down Scout’s spine, makes his skin prickle even in the warm air of the desert. The Sniper had no _idea_  what he was doing to him, with his  _voice_  and his  _body_  all stretched out like it was. Scout opens his mouth to reply,  _yeah, it’s been a long day. Gotta get some rest, y’know_ , but then Sniper rolls his shoulders, tilts his head to the side like leaning there for so long has done something to his neck. Scout can see the tendons under his skin and the faint pulse fluttering in his throat. He wants, abruptly, to seal his mouth over it and suck, see if he can draw the blood to the surface as easily as he thinks he can. He swallows.

He only realises he’s been staring when Sniper ducks his head, catching his eyes to get his attention, one brow raised, and Scout remembers that he hasn’t answered the Sniper’s question.

“Uh.” He says, eloquently, mouth dry. The way Sniper’s peering at him over his aviators makes the sun catch in the blue of his irises, making them seem bright and burning. Scout wants to touch him so badly it’s like a physical ache.

 _Fuck it_.

He launches himself - that’s really the only way to describe it, at the Sniper, any finesse or grace he might have possessed forgotten in favour of pinning Sniper back with one hand on his shoulder, the other curling around the back of his neck. Scout doesn’t hesitate; he doesn’t think he physically  _can_ , before pressing his lips against Sniper’s, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to feel Sniper’s teeth behind the tightly-shut seal of his lips. Sniper’s glasses are digging into his brow, and he feels more than he hears the noise Sniper makes; a hard, low sound of surprise, of anger. Sniper’s shoving at him only a moment later, both hands wrenching his shoulders until Scout yields, pulling away bright-eyed, heart racing from fear and adrenaline and desire. Sniper reaches up to grab Scout around the wrists, pulling his hands from their resting places, and his voice is surprisingly quiet when he speaks, a low, dangerous murmur.

“What the bloody hell d’you think you’re doing?” He says, and Scout can’t stop the shiver that runs through him. Scout wrestles his hands free, and the Sniper’s arms drop limply to his sides.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?” He says, a little irritated, a little impatient. “Don’t tell me you ain’t thought about it before.” Sniper glares as hard as he can from behind his glasses, but there’s something else there, damping down the force of his gaze.

“No, s’matter of fact, I haven’t.” He says. “I’ve got standards. Enough to know that y’don’t do this kind of  _thing_ with the people you work with,” His brows raise an increment, and Scout can sense that he’s being judged even though he can’t clearly see the Sniper’s eyes. “A concept  _you_  don’t seem to grasp.”

Gesturing out across the empty sands with an outstretched arm, Scout’s retort comes quick.

“Look where we are, man!” He exclaims, searching Sniper’s eyes. “I  d’know about you, but I don’t see anybody else offerin’ what I’m offerin’.” He drops his arm. “Look, you’re actin’ like this is  big fuckin’ deal when it ain’t. So what if we work together, it ain’t like we’re in each other’s company twenty-four seven.” Sniper opens his mouth as if to speak, but Scout gets there first. “It don’t gotta mean anything if you don’t want it to.” Scout sure as hell didn’t want it to mean anything. “And I ain’t gonna force it, y’tell me ‘no’ straight up and we’ll act like it never happened, but,” He feels like he’s begging, eyes gone soft and beseeching. He tries to level his gaze. “Y’gotta tell me, right, or I ain’t gonna quit.”

Sniper’s gone silent and still, either he’s thinking very deeply or simply at a loss for what to say. Scout decides to push his luck, reaching out to cup the back of Sniper’s neck, again, fingertips finding the short hair there and scratching through it carefully, thoughtfully. Sniper’s lip twitches back, exposing a faint hint of teeth. Scout’s never done this whole bit, all of his prior sexual experiences have been rushed, impulsive, quick to begin and quick to end. This is fragile, he feels, bringing the Sniper out of whatever shell he’d created for himself, petting at him like a feral creature. Sniper makes a small noise on the tail end of his next breath, and Scout doesn’t think Sniper’s reluctance is entirely due to professionalism, at all. The man is reclusive by nature, rarely showing more than the barest spectrum of expression and Scout doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to him in all the years he’s known him.

“Y’gotta tell me.” He says again, quietly. “Or I ain’t gonna stop.”

Sniper shifts, breathes slowly. He lifts his hands a little, as if to push Scout away or grab hold of him, or dig his fingers in and rip him apart, but in the end, he does nothing. His hands fall back to his sides. His tongue darts out against his lips, too quickly to be from anything besides tension, but the sight sends a curl of warmth through Scout nonetheless.

“Shit.” Sniper says. “Alright. Just - alright.” His voice is low and not as resolute as Scout would like it to be. He frowns, rubs his thumb back and forth against Sniper’s throat just to feel his pulse.

“Are you-”

“If y’ask me if I’m bloody sure I swear to god I’ll  _murder_  you right here.” His eyes are hard and Scout knows he’s not kidding. He makes a careful note not to wound Sniper’s pride again. Sniper tilts his head back into the pressure of Scout’s hand and lets out a breath. “Just get on with it, would’ya.”

 _Jesus_ , Scout thinks. A little more enthusiasm wouldn’t be  _terrible_ , but he’ll take what he can get. His heart’s beating like he just ran a mile, and he’s very aware of the faint tremble in his fingers when he reaches up to Sniper’s face,  _slowly_  - Sniper’s eyeing his hand like he’ll bite it if it makes any sudden movements. Sniper’s cheek is cool under his palm, and Scout is a little more thoughtful when he kisses him this time, giving a warning with the barest brush of his lips before pressing in. He’s a little out of practice, sure, but Sniper’s lips part under his readily enough, and Scout lets out an appreciative hum at the first, careful touch of the other man’s tongue.

It doesn’t go on for long; kissing’s great, and all, but it’s not what Scout wants, not really. He draws away, pressing his mouth to the soft spot under Sniper’s jaw, lower still until he can feel Sniper’s pulse against his lips, can feel his throat move when he swallows. Scout smiles against the skin, drawing it between his teeth, his lips, sucking like he’d wanted to before. Sniper makes a bitten-off sound, fingers finding Scout’s sides and curling into the fabric, and Scout out-right grins, drawing back with a lingering press of his tongue to examine his work. There’s a deep red mark nestled in the Sniper’s throat.  He grins up at the Sniper, who groans and looks just about ready to punch him.

“You cocky little shit.” He says, and the Scout laughs, gets to work untucking the Sniper’s shirt, and yeah,  _maybe_ he lets his fingers stray underneath Sniper’s waistband. Maybe a little. He runs one hand up the Sniper’s stomach, rucking up his shirt and feeling softness give way to the staccato terrain of his ribcage, expanding slowly as the Sniper breathes. He comes to rest at his chest, wandering idly to brush one nipple, then the other. Sniper lets out a real sweet sigh at that, so Scout does it again, a little harder, and is rewarded with a hand feeling blindly under his shirt, fingers digging into the flesh above his hip.

Scout would love to shove Sniper’s shirt all the way up and get his mouth on him, but this hardly seems the right place for it. They were in the middle of a desert, after all; soon the evening heat would be giving way to the chill of night time. Scout really didn’t want to still be stood out here when the cold set in.

Maybe another time.

He slides his hands down slowly, making their destination clear to give Sniper a chance to object. He doesn’t, and Scout’s fingers stumble over his waistband, unfasten the zipper and tuck inside the vee of Sniper’s opened trousers. He runs his fingers lightly over him through the fabric of his boxers and feels Sniper’s fingers twitch at his sides. Sniper lets out a breath that Scout didn’t know he’d been holding, and Scout looks up at him. Sniper looks exposed and a little raw, like he’s trying hard to keep his expression controlled, and a muscle tics in his jaw when he meets Scout’s eyes.

“Alright?” Scout risks asking, his questing fingers still feeling him out. He half expects Sniper to snap at him for daring to ask. He doesn’t. He just nods, and his breath catches on the next pass of Scout’s fingertips.

Scout smiles and drops his gaze again. He digs his fingers in, dimpling the fabric to take Sniper in fully and the friction must be all rough and wrong but Sniper makes a soft noise in his throat despite it. He’s a nice half-hard handful, and Scout knows he’s getting there too, despite the lack of attention he’s receiving. He rubs the heel of his unoccupied hand against his crotch, just to relieve some of the pressure there, and hears Sniper swallow thickly.

“Keep doin’ that.” Sniper says quietly, voice rough, eyes fixed on Scout’s hands working between their bodies. His palms slip up Scout’s sides, pushing his shirt up to expose his stomach, and Scout shivers. The idea that Sniper wants to watch, that he’s _getting off_  on watching, is enough to make Scout whine and push his hips into the weight of his hand. He’d thought he’d hate having all these layers in the way, but as he dips his fingers into Sniper’s boxers to pull them down he thinks,  _yeah,_  the slow reveal of Sniper’s cock from under his clothes  _is_ pretty nice.

Scout gives him a long slow stroke, keeping his fingers light and Sniper sighs out a low sound, eyes going soft and heavy-lidded. Touching bare skin is nothing like grasping through layers of clothing. Scout takes note of how tense the Sniper is, so wound up he’s almost trembling with it, and reminds himself to be careful; that a wrong move could still result in this being ruined, no matter how far along they got. It really didn’t do much for Scout’s confidence.

He moves to stop touching himself, aiming to stroke under Sniper’s shirt, hoping that would gentle him and give them both a chance to breathe, to relax into it a little. Sniper makes a disappointed noise, like he’s going to complain and Scouts sighs and squeezes Sniper’s dick to shut him up. He wants to touch him, wants to put his hands all over him, but he can hardly do that if he has to keep one hand to himself. Stubborn and determined to get his way, he fumbles his fly open, shoving his boxers down. He fits Sniper into the curl of his fingers and hooks his own cock with the thumb, pressing them together.

He chokes out a sound, dropping his head onto Sniper’s shoulder. Holy  _shit_ , he never thought it would feel that good. Sniper’s hard and hot and a little slick against him and it’s fucking  _awesome_. He can feel Sniper’s pulse against his parted lips, the way it jumps when he starts moving his hand, and Sniper’s groan is wrenched out of him, fingers digging into Scout’s sides so hard it hurts a little. He gets it, though. After so long not being touched by another person this was kind of a big deal.

He remembers why he did this - to get a hand free. He scratches his nails lightly up Sniper’s side before smoothing his palm back down his flank, but Sniper doesn’t react, just shoves his hips up into the clasp of Scout’s hand like it isn’t enough. Scout’s teeth scrape the tendon of his neck warningly, and Sniper tilts his head away and bares his throat with a low growling hum. It makes Scout smile, makes him tighten his grip and twist his wrist and Sniper’s eyes drop shut, teeth scraping his lower lip and fuck, that’s exactly the kind of reaction Scout wants from him.

It soon becomes very clear that this isn’t going to last. Not for Scout, anyway; he doesn’t know enough about the Sniper to tell either way. He almost wished it would last longer, but truthfully this was one of the most awkward positions he’d ever gotten off in and it would be getting dark soon. He drags his nails down Sniper’s side and rolls his hips, pushes himself against Sniper’s cock and the smooth slide of skin makes him shake.

He stills his roaming hand under Sniper’s shirt to grip him, like his body thinks he’s going to fall if he doesn’t hold on to something, runs his lips over the stubble at Sniper’s throat just to feel it. To his credit, Sniper catches on fast. He rubs his thumbs against Scout’s sides, his gaze locked on Scout’s hands between them. Scout doesn’t know why  _watching_  and not  _touching_  does so much for Sniper, but he can’t particularly bring himself to care, either.

It creeps up on him slowly, and he hangs on the edge for far too long. Sniper’s hands tighten at his sides, almost like encouragement, and Scout breathes damply against Sniper’s shoulder and whines and comes, shuddering. Scout clings to him, gasping against his shirt and rocking up into his fist, making a mess of them both, feeling Sniper pet at him, short, soft strokes over his hips that Scout thinks are intended to settle him. He can hear Sniper talking; murmuring inarticulate praise, his breathing short and shaking like just  _watching_  was too much for him to bear.

Scout rubs his cheek against Sniper’s shoulder, touches his lips to his throat and breathes him in as his pulse settles. Sniper’s heart is still beating wildly; Scout can feel it all through him, and if Sniper wasn’t desperate for it before, he was now. His hands are in constant motion, clawing at Scout’s back, thumbs digging into his hips, and Scout’s too sensitive to keep touching himself so he stops, releasing them both to wipe his hand against his thigh.

Sniper groans and moves against him, rubbing his cock against Scout’s stomach for lack of anything else, breath coming in short, hard gasps like he can’t catch his breath. Scout’s not sure why but Sniper’s desperation makes him ache, makes him want to kiss him again, and he leans back so he can see his face, reaching down again to grip him. Sniper gives a full-bodied jerk, his hands shaking where they’re pressed against Scout’s skin, and this is so different to the Sniper he’s used to that he almost can’t believe it.

“That’s it,” He hears himself say, soft and slow. “That’s it. Don’t hold out on me now, man.” He sets an unforgiving pace, hears Sniper take a sobbing breath. “Wanna see you come.  _C’mon_ , look at me.” Sniper does, looking dazed and a little distant and Scout smiles, cups Sniper’s jaw in his free hand and Sniper presses into it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Scout watches him come, feeling a little little awed by it all. He feels the sudden, searing wetness on his fingers and rubs his thumb along Sniper’s cheek, grinning as Sniper shakes through the aftershocks. It’s long and intense, from what Scout can tell, and he wonders just how long it’s really been since somebody else touched the Sniper this way. He doesn’t dwell on it, and soon Sniper shifts, making a sound of discomfort and Scout releases him. He takes a step back to tuck himself into his trousers and watches Sniper do the same, his fingers unsteady. Scout’s hands are sticky and kind of gross, and he curses the fading post-coital haze that makes everything suck again.

Sniper’s lighting a cigarette, and Scout doesn’t really know what to say, as uncomfortable around this quiet, distant Sniper as he was _before_  he touched his dick. Maybe even more. It’s getting dark, and he knows that it’ll be freezing by the time he’s run halfway back to base.

“So…that happened.” He says, and it sounds stupid even to his own ears. Sniper laughs, though, a soft huff through his nose, so Scout thinks maybe it’s okay.

“Yeah, it did.” The Sniper says, and looks back to the Scout, watching him. Scout thinks maybe it’s freaked him out a little, being that exposed and vulnerable, but he can’t think anything reassuring to say that won’t offend him. Hell, he’s still not entirely certain that he won’t get a bullet to the head as soon as he sets off across the desert. He turns, looking back in the direction of the base, preparing to give some awkward goodbye.  _Sorry, pal. You being freaked out is kinda freaking me out, so I’m gonna leave._

“Stay for a bit if you want, mate.” Sniper says, and Scout pauses in surprise, blinking. Sniper’s still watching him, breathing out smoke. “Gettin’ cold now. I’ll drive you back later.” He says, and Scout doesn’t know if he’s just being polite, or if he actually wants him around. It hardly seems like Sniper’s in the mindset to offer false friendliness, though, so Scout shrugs and offers him a smile.

“Alright, yeah.”


End file.
